


love you 'til my breathing stops

by getmean



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Reunions, i'm acting under the fanon that leon is white rose's right hand boy and has done bad things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 18:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getmean/pseuds/getmean
Summary: Leon turned to him, predator slow, a streak of dark smudged colours in the dimness of Elliot’s apartment. His eyes were sharp, like something dangerous, like nothing Elliot had ever seen on him before. It made his fight or flight kick in, that primal animal instinct. If Elliot was the hunted, then what did that make Leon?After all, Elliotknew, now.





	love you 'til my breathing stops

“I know what you did.” Elliot murmured. “I know what you _do_.”

Leon turned to him, predator slow, a streak of dark smudged colours in the dimness of Elliot’s apartment. His eyes were sharp, like something dangerous, like nothing Elliot had ever seen on him before. It made his fight or flight kick in, that primal animal instinct. If Elliot was the hunted, then what did that make Leon?

After all, Elliot _knew_ , now.

Elliot turned away from the dark eyes needling him from across the span of his kitchen. Turned his eyes to his bed, unmade, the glowing screens of his desktops and to Qwerty making unhurried loops of his bowl. Leon, in his apartment - apartment number three, not the dingy room in Chinatown or the prison cell both real and imagined, both hard steel and the scent of a childhood home. New apartment, a bullet scar in his belly, and Leon. Back like the stray cat Elliot had thought of him as, sometimes. He could bounce back from anything, fierce and smart and loyal, and now. Hunter. 

“You’re shocked?” 

“No.” Elliot said, an immediate knee jerk reaction. Leon’s mouth pulled in a smile, and Elliot ducked his head. “No.” He repeated, firmer. Nothing about Leon could shock him after he killed those men. The real shock was that those same hands that had held Elliot’s face so gently, had threaded through his hair as Leon kissed him, were capable of that. 

“You’re a bad liar.” Leon murmured, and the way he moved through the semi-darkness of Elliot’s apartment was calculated, deliberate. Elliot felt frozen in his path, like a rabbit in the jaws of death. “‘S a bad line of work to be a terrible liar in, cuz.”

Leon looked different out of his orange jumpsuit, that ever-present white wifebeater. More real, solid. Younger. Elliot’s eyes flicked from the overlarge collar of his sweater, the easy tilt of his hips as he came to lean against the kitchen table, his large, deft hands. “I’m not lying.”

“So what’s the problem?” Leon asked, and his following smile was easy, friendly. Like he hadn’t appeared out of nowhere in Elliot’s doorway, no explanation, no nothing. They were a foot apart now, Elliot standing awkwardly in the centre of his apartment as Leon pinned him down with that gaze. “If you ain’t shocked by my line of work, what’s the hold up?”

Elliot shook his head. “I don’t know.” He admitted.

Leon tapped his fingers on the table, and Elliot thought, _idle hands are the devil’s workshop_. “You scared?” His head was tilted, hair in his eyes, and suddenly Elliot felt the weight of Leon’s absence like an avalanche. He almost whimpered under the force of it, closed his eyes for one shaky, tilting moment as he clenched his fists by his sides.

“I don’t know.” He said again, voice wavering and then, “No.”

Leon regarded him silently for a second, dark eyes and dark clothes and the devil’s hands. Then, his face broke into a smile, and it felt like a balm on broken skin. “Now that’s a better lie, cuz.” Elliot swallowed, palms sweaty by his sides. 

“Why are you here?” He asked, because he had to, because if Leon was here to hurt him he needed to know. The question came out colder than he anticipated, and he didn’t miss the twitch of hurt that passed over Leon’s face. He could feel that same hurt magnified in himself, resonating down through his bones as he pictured the same hands which had always comforted him being used to hurt him. It made him feel sick to his stomach, a kind of anxiety nausea so unlike being junk sick, or anything else. It may have felt something like heartbreak, the teetering edge just before it, the anticipation of the plummet. 

Leon straightened up, took a step forward, and another. Elliot felt rooted on the spot, unable to do anything but watch Leon’s long, newly-deadly form by the glow of the streetlamp outside. The night had darkened all at once in that way that summer nights do; light and light, and then _dark_. The lamp streaked Leon in amber bars, his eyes a flat black through it, and he was beautiful, he was terrifying, he was the person Elliot had known and at the same time a stranger.

He stopped half a foot from where Elliot was frozen, and now that he was close Elliot could see his eyes were gentle, soft. The tension still thrummed through him like a live wire, but Elliot felt himself ache across the space between them. “I’m not here to kill you.” Leon murmured, and Elliot sagged in relief at his words. The nameless rush of _thank God_ , and _why?_ and, _lovelovelove_ was heady. Slowly, Leon extended his hand to brush his knuckles over Elliot’s stomach, brief as a kiss through his clothes. “You’ve had enough pain to last you a lifetime, Elliot.”

It was true and it was a lie all at once, but it was enough to make Elliot take that final step forward to close that tantalising, yawning gap between them and press close to Leon’s body like he’d been wanting to for _months_. Leon’s hands reached automatically to settle on Elliot’s waist, like he’d never been gone, like they’d never been apart. “Leon.” Elliot murmured, and his hands were in Leon’s hair and he was tilting his face down before his synapses fired the information back to him. 

Kissing Leon was comforting in its familiarity. He still smelled the same, maybe less like prison-issue soap but deep down, that skin smell that never changed. His hands, precious and deadly and too gentle, always the same on Elliot’s body. Some things never change. Elliot thought about what he’d seen, what he’d been told: Leon as White Rose’s _puppet_ , vicious and mean, her right hand man. It wasn’t easy to reconcile that Leon with the one he knew, the one who was kissing him like he was something to be revered. 

“I _missed_ you.” Leon breathed into the space between their mouths, and Elliot let himself melt into his touch like he knew he would the moment he had seen Leon in his doorway. Knowing what Leon’s hands had done wasn’t easy, but letting him press them all over his body - his hips, his stomach, his arms, his jaw - now, _that_ was easy. Elliot would let Leon devour him whole, take him apart limb by limb, just to be as close as humanly possible.

The stumble to Elliot’s bed was clumsy, uncoordinated, full of Leon laughing against his lips and his hands slipping from his waist, his hips, his ass. Elliot felt full up, breathless, a ringing in his ears as Leon slid his shirt over his head and pressed his thumb to the ugly knot of scar tissue in his stomach. 

“Don’t.” He muttered, but curled his fingers in Leon’s dreads as he ducked his head to kiss the scar. 

“I coulda stopped this.” Leon murmured, thumbs pressing deep into the flesh below Elliot’s ribcage. “I should’ve been there.”

Elliot had to close his eyes at the phantom pain of the bullet wound, the burning of the bullet so visceral and sickening he had wanted to claw it out of his guts with his own hands. “It was all me.” He whispered, and tilted Leon’s face up so he could press his fingers to the corner of his sweet, full mouth. “I wasn’t gonna stop for anyone.”

Leon’s mouth twisted at that, something angry and mean that Elliot hadn’t seen on his face before. He was suddenly very aware of Leon’s hands on his bare skin, and wondered which of the two of them had more blood on them.

“I could’ve stopped you.” Leon murmured, and he sounded so sure that Elliot almost believed it. But no one could stop what was inside him, no matter how much he wanted Leon to take away all the danger as easily as he’d dispatched Elliot’s attackers. Danger was his shadow now, always at his back, looming ever larger than him as the days passed. He passed his thumb over Leon’s lower lip, something heavy and important blooming in his chest as Leon’s eyelids fluttered closed.

“If you’re not here to kill me, then what’re you doing here?” He asked, and when Leon opened his eyes they were huge, devouring. Elliot dropped his hand to his lap, and Leon caught it, turned it over to press his fingertip to the middle of Elliot’s palm. “You’ve been out for a while.” Elliot prompted, eyes on Leon’s face as he traced the lines of Elliot’s palm. “Why now?”

Leon’s lips moved silently, hair in his eyes, as he tapped Elliot’s palm. “Your heart line is all broken up, cuz.”

It wasn’t exactly what Elliot had been expecting, considering their breathless, giddy dance to the bed. To be sitting shirtless, all full up and bogged down with too much in his chest, having Leon engage in a cryptic, spontaneous palm reading. 

“What does that mean?” He asked, voice barely a whisper, and Leon just brought his palm to his mouth to kiss it.

“I wanted to wait until it felt right.” He mumbled, lips against Elliot’s hand, eyes burning through the gaps between his fingers. Elliot closed them, experimentally, blocked out Leon’s gaze for a moment before bringing it back, oddly bereft for that split second. “Got the smell of blood outta my nose, yanno?”

The last time Elliot had seen Leon, he’d been out of his mind on uppers. So much Adderall his mouth had felt furry and chalky with it. Too much had passed between then and now, and Elliot knew in his gut that the Leon who’d cupped his sweating, wired face in his huge warm hands was a whole different creature to what was kissing his palm, his wrist. In that moment, that sped up, glitching last moment, Elliot had been sure his heart was seconds away from erupting out of his chest. Now, he knew it was the drugs, but then he’d been sure it was love.

“And did you?” He asked, and Leon tilted his head to the side, questioning, boyish. “Get it out?”

Leon’s lips curved upwards, wry and barely-there in the glow from the street. “Mostly.” He murmured. 

“So now you’re back for me.” Elliot said, deliberate and slow, dragging on the syllables. Leon tilted his head back to regard him, and Elliot didn’t miss the way his smile wavered when he said, “Or, back for what I know.”

Yes, the fact that Leon had been keeping an eye on him as a way to gather information on phase two still stung. Elliot would have to be made out of stone for it not to hurt. Like a bruise, yellowed and fading but still painful when pressed. 

“Back for you.” Leon murmured, and Elliot was surprised to find his hands on his face were just as gentle, just as warm as they had been through a haze of amphetamines. His turned his face to press his nose to Leon’s palm, let his eyelids dip as Leon said, “Only you.”

It was easier to believe him if Elliot concentrated only on the smell of his skin and the way he made his stomach twist. Not the junk sick twist of withdrawal. This was something rosier, nostalgic and childish in its hope. He felt undone by the look in Leon’s eyes. 

“I don’t believe you.” He began to say, and then Leon tilted his face up with a gentle nudge, and he was kissing him again. Elliot exhaled heavily, a shuddering rush of air, and with it his shoulders slumped as he gave himself over to that tiny match-strike flare of hope. Leon’s thumbs were gentle in the hollows of his jaw, just enough pressure to keep him grounded, and Elliot screwed his eyes shut at the thought of those hands tightening deadly around his throat. They had killed, they had comforted, they’d killed, they’d killed, they were gentle and work-rough and warm like a kiss and they had killed-

“Stop it.” Leon murmured, and smoothed his hands down the sides of Elliot’s neck, over his locked tense shoulders and down his bare arms. Elliot felt the tension ease from his muscles under the path of Leon’s hands like magic, and he dropped his forehead to Leon’s shoulder as it left him. “Don’t be scared.”

“I love you.” Elliot said, instead of everything else he wanted to and couldn’t say. It was the first thing out of his mouth, and he found himself surprised by how true it was. The fear lurking in the back of his mind was as compulsive and out of his control as his habits of checking every subway car and street corner for suits were. Elliot harboured fear like a second bloodstream, it didn’t matter, it couldn’t be separated from the core of himself if he tried. He was afraid of Leon, and he loved him, and those emotions would exist together inside him as long as it took for his heart to give out.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :^)!


End file.
